


Leathean

by JoMarch



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMarch/pseuds/JoMarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manchester, Part II post-ep with some J/D smut thrown in for good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leathean

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Everything through Manchester, Part II.  
> Disclaimer: Aaron owns them. I'm just renting them for the afternoon. ADULT CONTENT -- If you're under eighteen, go away NOW.  
> Thanks: as ever, to Ryo and Morgan, for the fabulous editing skills and the constant encouragement (or, in Morgan's case, the constant stalking).

"We should party," CJ announced.

Donna took a quick look around. "Balloons, music, people drinking -- how is this not a party?"

CJ waved her glass in the air as she made a sweeping gesture that included the entire room. Consequently, she splashed some of her grasshopper onto Donna's neck. "This," she proclaimed, "is an official celebration. For the masses. When I say party, I mean us. The five of us -- you, me, Sam, Toby and Josh -- like we used to. Like the good old days."

"The good old days two months ago?"

"Yeah, them." CJ nodded, then shook her head vigorously. "No, the other good old days. Like during the campaign. Bartlet For America, baybee!"

"What is going on here?" Josh asked, as he, Sam and Toby joined CJ and Donna. Taking the glass out of Donna's hand, he helped himself to her whiskey sour. "And why does Donna smell like a distillery?"

"Ah," CJ said happily. "My spin boys. Spanky, Tobus and the fool who can't see what's going on right in front of him."

"Hey! Is that another crack about tobacco? Because if that's another crack about tobacco--"

"CJ," Toby intoned solemnly, "you are drunk."

"Damn straight I'm drunk, Tobus. I'm drunk and employed. Deal with it."

"The press was here earlier," Toby pointed out. "Should we perhaps curtail the alcohol consumption until after the _New York Times_ leaves?"

"They left an hour ago," CJ replied. "I didn't start drinking until then."

"It's true," Sam added. "I saw her. She walked around with the same glass of white wine in her hand for two hours."

"Ah, Spanky." CJ wrapped an arm around Sam, causing him to list a bit to the right. "I can always depend on you. Did you know that Connie has a thing for you there, Spanky?"

"What?" Sam resembled nothing so much as a deer caught in the headlights of the oncoming car.

"CJ's been taking non sequitur lessons from Donna," Josh explained. He lifted the whiskey sour higher in the air -- out of Donna's reach -- and went crashing into Sam when Donna tackled him in a failed attempt to retrieve her drink.

CJ and Toby surveyed the damage. Donna was sprawled on top of a ridiculously grinning Josh. Sam had ended up off to their side, nursing his wounds alone while Josh and Donna conducted a heated conversation over who was to blame, completely ignoring their fallen comrade.

"Sort of says it all, don't you think?" CJ asked.

"It's a metaphor," Toby agreed.

Sam stood up, shaking his head in obvious bewilderment at the sight of Josh still sprawled on the floor beneath Donna. "I don't think that's very professional," he commented to CJ and Toby.

"Must we be professional tonight?" CJ asked as she grabbed a drink from a passing waiter. "Can't we just have one night where we forget about work and scandals and anything even vaguely related to politics? For one night, can't we pretend we have actual lives?"

"No," Toby answered.

"Why not?" CJ marched closer to Toby, a determined look in her eyes. "Give me one good reason why not."

"One, we are professionals and therefore too cognizant of the consequences any missteps would create. Two, since the President officially declared his candidacy today, we need to begin work on our re-election strategy. Three, the press--"

"Oh, shut the hell up, Toby," CJ replied. She walked over to Josh, who was helping Donna to her feet. "I'm going out for a night on the town. Who's with me?"

"I am," Donna announced.

"No, you're not," Josh said. "We have work--"

"You can work on the plane tomorrow," CJ countered. "Donna and I are going to go out and pick up a couple of hot guys we'll never have to see again."

"Who don't talk about politics," Donna added.

"Why would you want that?" Josh asked.

CJ and Donna exchanged disgusted looks.

"Donna and I are going," CJ announced. "We will be leaving from the lobby in one hour. Larry, Moe and Curly, you can do whatever you want." With that, she grabbed Donna by the arm and headed toward the elevator.

Toby, Sam and Josh looked at each other warily. Josh was the first to find an excuse. "I have to go with them," he explained. "Otherwise Donna will never let me hear the end of it."

"If Josh is going, I'm going," Sam decided.

"You're all fools, and you need me there to protect you from the consequences of your own actions," Toby announced.

As one, they followed CJ and Donna to the elevators. 

*** 

"I have reached a decision," Donna announced solemnly.

She stood in the doorway of Josh's hotel room, her serious expression undercut by the way she kept swaying from one side to the other as she stared at him. In her arms, she carried a neatly folded pile of clothes with two excessively girly-looking bottles perched on top.

"And this decision is...?" Josh asked.

"I like your shower better than the one in my room, so I'm going to get ready in here," she explained as she marched passed him into the bedroom. "You always get better rooms than I do when we travel," she continued, ignoring his slack-jawed expression. "Why is that?"

"I'm the boss and you're the assistant?"

"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting that part."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"It's completely your fault that I smell like a whiskey sour," she said as she set her bundle of clothes on the bed.

"Also a grasshopper. But that's CJ's fault."

"So," she continued, "I'm showering with you."

"Uh, somehow I don't think that's quite what you meant to say."

"It is too. I am availing myself of your shower facilities."

"See? That's not what you said originally."

He decided that she was too darn cute with that confused expression making her eyes look even larger than usual. "It isn't?" she asked.

"No, you said you wanted to shower _with_ me, not that you wanted to use my shower."

The confused look disappeared. Replacing it was a joyous smile that lit up her entire face. "About damn time you asked," she said. With that, she threw her arms around his neck and began kissing him with what he considered an astounding display of enthusiasm.

Common courtesy demanded that he return the kiss with equal relish. Not, he reminded himself, that this could go any further, but he could always rationalize one kiss. Justify it. A friendly moment between two colleagues celebrating a professional victory. That was all it was.

If anyone asked.

If anyone found out. Which, god willing, never would happen.

And if he started licking the remnants of whiskey sour and grasshopper off her neck while those amazing little gasps came from the back of her throat, that was just because--because--

Well, yeah. Okay. There was no easy way to justify that one.

He pulled away from her reluctantly and began pacing around the room. "Okay," he said, his back to her, "we're just going to forget this happened."

"That's a great idea!" She sounded way too happy. So maybe they couldn't do anything, but did she have to deflate his ego that way?

He turned around to protest and found himself staring at Donna's naked breasts.

"What the -- why -- put some clothes on, will you?"

"No," she said. She shook her head and he watched, mesmerized, as her naked Donna nipples turned all pink and hard from the hotel room's cold air. "You don't put clothes _on_ before you take a shower," she said. With that, she started unzipping her pants. He rushed to her side to stop her from continuing to taunt him with her striptease.

As soon as he felt the naked Donna breasts brushing against his chest, he realized his tactical error.

However, he told himself, he possessed enough intestinal fortitude to ignore this.

Until he put his hand over hers. That, he decided, was what undid him. He could ignore the breasts, but the feel of that delicate hand resting just above her hip -- that was more than he could take.

He muttered a number of impressive profanities under his breath.

"Wow," Donna whispered.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said--"

"You are so hard. That's really something. Especially for a man your age."

"A -- I'm barely forty!"

"Yeah, I know," she said, laughing. "But you're so damn cute when you're defensive."

He jumped back before she could kiss him again.

"Okay," he said. "Obviously, I am the voice of reason in this conversation."

She snorted.

"I am too," he insisted. "And as the voice of reason, I demand that you take your naked breasts and leave. We'll forget this ever happened."

"I love that idea. That is the best idea you've ever had."

"You leaving?" His voice, he noted, sounded pathetically high and thin there.

"No," she said. "Forgetting. Forgetting is good."

"You're losing me here." Which, he thought, could be related to the fact that she was swaying again. Her breasts were naked, and she was swaying. How could a man be expected to concentrate on words at a moment like this?

"I'm really drunk, Josh," she explained, as though that clarified everything.

"Yes, you are. Another excellent reason we shouldn't do anything."

"You're drunk too."

"I'm really not."

"'Course you are. Yours is a very sensitive system, and you're drunk. We're both so drunk we won't remember anything that happens tonight."

"Trust me when I tell you that tonight's events are burned into my brain."

"Trust me when I tell you they're not. We could do anything. Anything at all. We could make love in that shower." He whimpered. "We could go out with the others and every time they're not looking I could slide my hand inside your jeans." He moaned. "And then we could come back here and make love again in that nice big bed." He groaned. "And then I'd go back to my room and when it was time to wake up and get ready for the flight back to DC, we'd both be so hung over we wouldn't remember any of it. So, you know, if anyone asked us whether we'd ever had an improper relationship and we said no, it wouldn't be lying cause it would be just like it never happened."

Her arms were around his neck again. She really had the most incredible face, he decided. She was all eyes and lips and it shouldn't work. Technically, aesthetically, she shouldn't be beautiful.

She really was the most exquisitely lovely woman he'd ever seen.

"I could never be that drunk," he whispered.

"Work with me here, Joshua."

She pulled him into the bathroom before he could lodge any further protests. 

**** 

"Ow!" Donna yelped. "Ow, ow, ow!"

"Well, you're just killing the mood."

"The water's too damn cold."

"I thought cold water would help, you know, sober you up a little."

This, Donna thought, was not going exactly as planned. She was in the shower alone; Josh hadn't even finished undressing; and with the wet hair plastered to her head, she probably resembled nothing so much as a drowned rat.

As a temptress, she was woefully inadequate.

"The plan does not call for sober," she reminded him. She sounded so testy, she made herself wince. _Way to repel the man you're trying to seduce, Donnatella,_ she told herself. "The plan calls for the opposite of sober."

"Yeah, but, see, my thing is that I can't in good conscience take advantage of a drunk woman."

"Oh, Josh, that is so sweet!"

"Yeah, well, I'm the soul of courtesy."

"Now get your damn clothes off, get me some warm water, and get your ass in here."

"You're such a romantic."

"Hey, we are on a tight schedule here. The others are expecting us in thirty minutes."

"Another good reason not to--"

"Josh." She stepped out of the shower, pressing her wet (and conveniently naked) body against him. She dipped her hand inside his jeans and squeezed.

"Christ," he muttered.

"Thirty minutes," she whispered. "And I have lotion in the bedroom."

"You are not getting me to use some girly lotion."

"I didn't--"

"I mean it, Donna. Not even for sex."

"Did I--"

"I have my limits. Mandy once tried to--"

"Josh, the idea is that you rub the lotion on me."

"I do?" He looked all wide-eyed and eager, like a puppy whose owner had just offered it a treat.

_Wow,_ she thought, _that was a disturbing image._ she worked for _me_ ," she heard him mutter as she left. 

*** 

"What is this stuff anyway?" he asked.

"Vanilla almond."

He would have complained about getting her girly vanilla almond body lotion all over his hands, but she was lying there on his bed. Five feet, ten inches of naked Donnatella Moss on his bed. Just lying still and waiting for him to touch every inch of her deliciously nude self.

He knew better than to quibble.

"Ten," he murmured when he finished kissing her.

"You're counting?"

"You got a problem with that?"

"No, it's sweet. It's just--" She shrugged. This resulted in more movement from the naked Donna breasts, which he enjoyed. "It's sweet," she repeated.

"I'm not sweet," he protested.

"You are. You have been known to be."

"I'm not. I am an outdoorsman. Outdoorsmen are not sweet."

"Please. Your idea of enjoying the great outdoors is spending an afternoon at a strip mall."

"Is not."

"When Zoey asked you to go hiking with her and Liz this afternoon, you panicked."

"There are snakes on that farm. Ask CJ."

"If you say so."

"You don't want sex, do you?" he asked.

"You'd withhold sex because I refuse to go along with your 'Josh is an outdoorsman' fantasy?"

"Am I an outdoorsman, or do you want to get dressed?"

"I don't believe you!"

"Vanilla almond body lotion is a terrible thing to waste."

"Idiot," she said.

"Yeah, I'll be getting dressed now."

"All right! Fine. You are."

"Are what?"

"A ridiculous man." She really was too adorable when she started giggling like that, he thought.

He leaned over and kissed her. "Eleven," he said. "I'll see you downstairs."

He'd barely gotten off the bed when Donna, still giggling, managed to call out, "Hey, Grizzly Adams, get your ass back over here!"

"Close enough," he conceded. 

*** 

Josh, she decided, had gifted hands.

She was amazed that she'd never properly appreciated them before. She blamed this on her fascination with his arms. She could happily stare at his arms all day. Right now, for instance, she was enthralled by the way his muscles sort of rippled as his hands moved across her body. It was a joy to watch him. In fact, she decided, he pretty much appealed to all the senses. Besides being pleasing to the eye, he smelled all clean and soapy from the shower. When she reached up and pulled his head down for kiss number twelve, he tasted all warm and spicy. Plus he made some moaning noises that were immensely entertaining.

Then there was the way he touched her. He was taking the idea of touching her entire body very seriously. He lifted each of her arms so he could reach both front and back. He spent several precious minutes exploring her breasts and her stomach before moving slowly down her legs. When he moved his hands back up her legs, she lifted her hips slightly so he could move his hands over her ass. Then he lifted her back up to a sitting position while he rubbed the lotion across her back.

"Hi there," he said when they were face to face.

This had the unfortunate result of sending Donna off into another fit of giggles.

"You know," she said, "I feel kind of bad here. You seem to be doing all the work."

"I wasn't really thinking of this as work."

"Perhaps not, however--"

"This definitely falls under the heading of play."

"Play is good," she agreed.

"We should play more often."

"Yes, we should."

She slid back down onto the pillow, Josh's mouth on hers.

"Thirteen," they said together.

"Damn," she muttered as she noticed the clock on the nightstand.

"What?"

"Five minutes."

"Really," he asked, "is staying in such a bad idea? I mean, all things considered."

"Just for a couple of hours, Josh. CJ's really looking forward to it."

"Well, good. 'Cause keeping CJ amused is at the top of my list of priorities right this minute. Yeah, and while we're at it, Toby's been in a crappy mood lately, and we all know how rare that is, so by all means--"

"Josh, if you shut up right this minute, you'll still have time to get laid."

"Shutting up."

And this, she discovered, was what making love to Josh felt like: His mouth worked slowly back down her body until his tongue was moving inside her, gently pressing against her clit. Before she knew what was happening, her hips were lifting off the bed in time to the rhythm he was setting inside her. She was going to tell him to stop, that as fabulous as it all felt, they didn't have time for this, when the orgasm overtook her and she simply ended up calling his name. The next thing she knew, he was staring at her, pushing a strand of hair off of her face. And then he was kissing her again as he entered her slowly. It took just a second to adjust to the feel of him inside her, and she felt herself actually pouting when he withdrew momentarily before beginning to thrust. She wound her legs tightly against him and studied the look on his face when he came.

"Wow," he said when he withdrew.

"Definitely wow."

"That was--"

"Pleasant."

"Excuse me? Pleasant?"

"Enjoyable," she amended.

"You're not really up on the whole post-coital thing, are you, Donnatella?"

"I'm trying not to inflate your already considerable ego."

"And you're succeeding admirably too, I might add."

"Besides," she began, resting her head against his shoulder, "you're -- Ohmigod!" And then the giggles started again.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"Body lotion," she gasped between laughs. "Vanilla -- ohmigod -- you have a distinct aroma of vanilla almond body lotion."

"That is so not funny."

"Yet true."

"Donna!"

"Well, what did you think was going to happen? Use some common sense."

"I went to Harvard. I don't need common sense."

"What you need is another shower."

"There's no time. They'll be here any minute, and--"

She was still giggling hysterically when Toby knocked on the door. 

*** 

Among the sights Toby had never expected to see -- and fervently hoped he'd never see again -- the one that greeted him now was certainly at the top of the list: Josh Lyman, a sheet draped toga style across his body, his usually unruly hair damp and plastered against his head.

"Uh...Toby," Josh said slowly, as though recalling the name of someone he'd worked with for three years was an effort. "Toby, I'm not ready."

"Obviously." Two things immediately became apparent -- that Josh was doing his best to block Toby's view of the hotel room and that there was suspiciously feminine laughter coming from the general direction of Josh's bed.

Toby did not want to contemplate the reason for any of this.

"Ten minutes," Josh said. "We'll -- I'll meet you guys in the lobby in ten minutes."

Toby started to indicate his agreement when he became aware of a peculiar odor. "Josh," he asked, "are you aware that you smell like some sort of scented candle?"

The feminine laughter got louder.

And very familiar.

Toby watched in fascinated horror as Josh quickly turned around to tell the woman (whose identity Toby refused to acknowledge) to stop laughing. Another long moment passed during which Josh failed to turn back toward Toby. Josh's fascination with what -- or who -- he was staring at did not escape Toby's attention. Clearing his throat to get his co-worker's attention, Toby sighed. "Ten minutes, Josh," he said. "And you should probably know that CJ's looking for Donna." 

*** 

If CJ's intention was to pick up a companion for the evening, Toby reflected, she was going about it all wrong. She was perched on a bar stool, drink in one hand, appraising each man in the room in turn and clearly finding them wanting.

"Too short," she muttered. "Too stupid...too Republican...too short...too short... What the hell kind of inbreeding is going on in this state that they only produce munchkins?"

"CJ," Toby announced as he slid into the seat beside her and ordered the first in what he suspected would be a long series of jack and cokes, "you need to have a talk with Donna."

"Too short...too married...way too short -- What do you want me to talk to Donna about, Toby?"

"I think you know."

"Ah, the love that dares not speak its name." She took another swig of her drink. "No, wait. That's wrong. That's the talk you need to have with Sam."

"Let's deal with one problem at a time, shall we?"

"Let's not. I'm off duty. Hmm...that one has possibilities. He looks about 6'2'' from here, wouldn't you say?"

Toby ordered his second drink and scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. "CJ, I have reason to suspect that she's up there now."

"Up where now? Who?" CJ, involved in an intense staring contest with a tall, relatively good-looking man at the other end of the bar, reluctantly turned her attention back to Toby.

"Following your instructions," he said, "I went looking for Josh. And, by the way, you were supposed to be looking for Sam and Donna. Did you think they'd be hiding in a gin glass?"

"Do you have a point, Tobus? 'Cause you see that nice man over there? That nice man wants to get in my pants."

"As do we all, I'm sure. However, today's problem concerns--"

"Josh's pants?"

"Or his lack thereof. He is in his room, CJ."

"Hey, you found him!" She patted Toby's arm. "Good work, Spanky!"

"Sam is Spanky. I'm -- Why am I encouraging your habit of giving us all ridiculous and inappropriate nicknames?"

CJ took another drink before replying. "'Cause it's one of my more endearing eccentricities. Oh, God, it's the women with endearing eccentricities who never get laid, isn't it? Well, damn. That must be what I'm doing wrong."

"Focus, Claudia Jean. Josh is in his room, and he is not alone."

"He rarely is. They're joined at the hip."

"Based on what I overheard, they've been joining more than hips up there."

CJ looked at Toby, her face registering first amazement and then delight. "No shit!" she exclaimed. "Way to go, Donna!"

"CJ, we are about to land ourselves in a disaster here."

With a sigh, CJ corrected him. "First, they are the ones heading for disaster. Second, maybe at the moment the press is too focused on the MS and the state of the Bartlets' marriage to notice anything going on between Josh and Donna."

"This moment," Toby commented, "will pass. There's nothing to write about there--"

"That anyone can see," CJ muttered into her glass.

"So the press will move on to something else. At which point, we've got one of two stories on our hands -- either we've got the tart who slept her way into the White House--"

"Bastards. Why is it always the woman who gets blamed in these situations?"

"Or the charismatic older man--"

"Josh? 'Charismatic older man'?" CJ threw her head back and gave a delighted laugh. "Joshua Lyman?"

"The charismatic older man," Toby repeated, as patiently as he could manage, "who seduced the poor little naif. You have to go up there and talk some sense into her, CJ."

"Why?"

"I just explained--"

"No, I mean why do I have to talk some sense into her? Why is it always the women who have to be the moral arbiters in these situations, Toby? Because we're pure and noble and have no libidos to speak of? Because we don't need the occasional night of hot sex? Because that conveniently lets you men off the hook? Because if we don't put a stop to it, then you're not to be held responsible for the consequences of your actions?"

Toby knew the signs all too well. He couldn't stop her at this point; he could only sit back and listen until she'd finished her rant.

"Because, Toby, let me tell you, we have libidos. Strong libidos. You can't expect a woman like Donna, who is nearing her sexual prime, to just patiently sit outside Josh's office for all these years and ignore how badly she wants him while he constantly teases her with that innuendo we all pretend we don't hear and then he carries on with the likes of Mandy Hampton. _Mandy Hampton,_ for all that is holy!"

"That is not the issue. The issue--"

He should have realized that he was inserting himself back into the conversation too soon, he thought as she cut him off mid-sentence. "And while we're at it," she said, "I should mention that I'm sick of playing the role of den mother around here. So if you've got a problem with this situation, _you_ can talk to _him_ about it!" With that, CJ stood up, slammed her glass on the table, and started toward the guy she'd been making eye contact with. "Because tonight I am officially off duty," she announced. "For all I care, Josh and Donna can do whatever they want."

Toby shook his head once before walking out to the lobby. "God help us all," he whispered. "This night is going to be a disaster." 

***

Five minutes later, CJ flopped into an overstuffed chair across from Toby.

"No luck?" he asked.

"I tell you," she replied while motioning to a passing waiter, "I can't catch a break in this town."

"What was this one's defect?" Toby asked.

CJ paused long enough to order a drink from the waiter. "Recently divorced."

"I'm not seeing the obstacle there."

CJ reluctantly dragged her gaze from her view of the waiter and his retreating assets. "Rebound sex," she intoned in a solemn voice.

"What?"

"Toby, the guy had been married for sixteen years. Seemed like the faithful type too. And I am sorry; but if a man is in bed with me, his mind had better be focused on Claudia Jean Cregg, not on his ex-wife."

Before Toby could respond, Sam stepped off the elevator and made his way over to them. He looked around for a moment; Toby could literally see his deputy taking roll in his head.

"Aren't we missing some people?" Sam asked.

"Apparently Josh is having trouble getting ready," Toby explained. "I have not seen Donna."

"In my business," CJ muttered, "that is what we call spinning."

Toby leaned back in his chair. "I am stating the facts. Nothing more."

CJ took a small, ladylike sip of her drink. "What the hell ever," she said. Turning her attention to Sam, who sat perched on the edge of the chair next to her, she commented, "You seem kind of glum there, Spanky." 

"I'm not glum," Sam answered, but the frown he was giving them indicated otherwise. "I'm merely -- I'm -- Am I the only person here who thinks that wasn't a real apology we got?"

"Let it go, Sam," Toby advised.

"No." Sam, CJ noted, was wearing the stubborn face that usually spelled trouble for all involved. It was the face that said "I will now obsess over this issue until I've resolved it to my satisfaction. Or until I find something else to obsess over."

Suddenly, the night seemed like much less fun than it had a few minutes ago.

"Listen to Toby," CJ suggested. She leaned forward and rested a comforting hand on Sam's knee. "That apology is all we're going to get. The President's a proud man. Saying that much to us must have cost him. Accept the emotion behind the words and be satisfied with that. Then get drunk and look for a hot guy -- a hot woman, I mean. Oh hell, just look for someone hot."

"I'm not interested in Connie."

"Did I say you were?" CJ asked.

"You implied--"

"I said Connie was interested in you. Which is not unusual. Jeez, Sam, do you ever look in a mirror? Why do you think you get freebies from prostitutes?"

"Call girls," Sam corrected automatically.

"I beg of you," Toby said. His eyes, CJ noted, were closed and one hand rested against his forehead as though he was warding off a headache. "Do not use the plural. Even if it's accurate."

Sam, CJ noted with amusement, blushed at Toby's insinuation. "It's not -- Holy Hell!"

Toby opened his eyes, turned his gaze in the direction CJ and Sam were looking, and groaned. Sam and CJ stared in horrified fascination.

Donna and Josh, apparently unaware that the elevator doors had opened, were pressed against each other. Donna's left hand rested on Josh's hip, while her right arm was draped around his neck. Josh, hair still damp from his second shower, had both hands around Donna's waist, his head nestled in the crook of her neck.

Toby turned slowly toward CJ. "I told you that you needed to talk to Donna," he said. 

*** 

"You don't think they suspect, do you?" Josh whispered as he and Donna approached the others. Even though they had done an admirable job of disentangling themselves before getting off the elevator, he couldn't seem to let go of Donna's hand. Not only that, but Donna was practically skipping along beside him and her expression practically screamed, "I've been upstairs having sex, and it was an earth-shaking experience!"

Sometimes he wished he weren't so damn gifted.

"They're not even looking at us," Donna pointed out. Sadly for Josh's composure, she whispered this in his ear. Not only was he distracted by the way her breath tickled his ear, the scent of her lotion -- and he prayed that whiff of vanilla almond was coming from _Donna's_ body -- stirred up all manner of pleasant memories.

Reluctantly dragging his gaze from Donna's face, Josh studied Toby, CJ and Sam. Curiously, the trio had their backs to him and seemed excessively fascinated with the pattern of the lobby rug.

"Guys? We're here."

Three heads turned simultaneously in Josh's direction, wary expressions on their faces. Several seconds of silence followed as Toby, CJ and Sam attempted to do anything other than make eye contact with Josh and Donna.

CJ spoke up first. "Right. Great. Everyone's present and accounted for. Let's get moving then, shall we?"

Sam stood up, moving closer to Josh and Donna. "Wow," Sam said, looking at Donna, "somebody smells good."

At that moment, Toby began making choking noises. CJ rose quickly and began hitting Toby on the back -- with a little too much force, if the look Toby shot her was any indication.

"Right," CJ said, ignoring Toby irritated look. "Let's get moving, shall we?"

"See?" Donna grinned as Toby and Sam automatically fell into line behind CJ. "No problem. They don't suspect a thing."

Any reassurance Josh may have felt evaporated a moment later when Toby stepped back and wedged himself between Josh and Donna.

"Then again," Donna added as she leaned across Toby to speak to Josh, "there's always a possibility that I'm mistaken." 

*** 

"Is it just me," CJ asked, raising her voice above the noise in the club, "or are we not having fun?"

Sam surveyed his companions: Toby's ever-present scowl had reached epic proportions; CJ had long since abandoned her search for what she'd described as "a decently proportioned man" and was simply eyeing the couples on the dance floor with envy; Josh and Donna appeared oblivious to both their surroundings and their companions. Sam had the distinct impression that Josh and Donna would have preferred to be somewhere else.

As for his own state of mind, Sam acknowledged that he was not experiencing a buoyancy of spirits.

"We do seem a bit down," he admitted at last.

Donna pulled her chair closer to Josh and whispered something in his ear. Sam was amazed to discover that, even in the dim club lighting, the sudden flush on Josh's face was entirely too apparent.

Josh reached for the wine glass near Donna's hand. "Okay, I'm cutting off your liquor supply now."

"But I haven't drunk enough to--"

"You have," Josh said, staring at her intently. Donna squirmed a bit in her chair, then whispered something else to Josh.

Josh's blush, Sam noticed with interest, became even more pronounced.

"Donna!" Josh replied in a shocked tone. "I'm not going to--" He glanced at Sam, CJ and Toby, turned back to Donna and said, "No."

"You have no sense of adventure." Donna, Sam observed, was pouting.

"Oh, yeah?" Josh countered. "Come back to the hotel with me, and I'll show you adventurous."

"For the love of--" Toby began.

CJ coughed. "I was pointing out the lack of fun," she repeated. "Donna, Josh, perhaps you'd like to join our conversation?"

"I'm having fun," Donna commented, smiling at Josh.

"That's because you're drunk," CJ replied.

"Josh is having fun," Donna continued.

"I'm not," Josh answered. "I was having fun. I hope to be having fun again. But right this minute? No, not so much."

"Are you having fun there, Tobus?" CJ asked.

"I am surrounded by fools," Toby replied. "Naturally, I am filled with glee."

CJ leaned forward and rested her head against one hand. "We used to do this sort of thing all the time during the campaign," she noted.

"What sort of thing?" Sam asked.

"Go out together. Drink. Talk. Enjoy one another's company," CJ answered. "Why is that no longer fun?"

Toby finished his drink and stared at CJ. "Perhaps because now we actually know one another?"

"No, that's not the answer," CJ replied. "You're a pain in the ass, but you've never been able to ruin a good time completely."

"I've spent the last three years refining my talents."

Sam listened to the byplay between CJ and Toby halfheartedly while he pondered why they couldn't seem to have fun together anymore. Reaching an answer, he raised his voice in order to be heard over the din of the crowd. "We need an apology."

"This again?" CJ asked.

"The President didn't apologize," Sam said.

"Of course he did," CJ replied. "I was there. I heard him."

"He apologized for dragging us through this whole investigation," Sam insisted . "He apologized for everything that's happening to us now. He never apologized for lying to us in the first place."

"I think 'lie' is a word we want to avoid using," Toby commented.

Sam ignored Toby's comment. "We left our jobs," he continued. "We left our friends and our families. We uprooted our entire lives, and now we discover that it was all a lie. So, yes, I appreciate what the President said to us today, but I'd like a little more in the way of an apology."

"That's not going to happen," Toby said softly. "If you accept that the President said as much as he's capable of, you'll be happier."

"No," Sam argued. His voice sounded strident even to himself. "I won't. It's not like Bartlet For America was just a political campaign for us. It was supposed to be something more than that. Jed Bartlet was supposed to be more than that. He was supposed to be the real thing. He wasn't supposed to manipulate the truth like any other political hack." Sam looked around the table and noticed that even Josh and Donna were staring at him in fascinated horror. "I expected more from him is all," he said quietly.

"Oh, and the rest of us didn't?" Josh asked. "You think you've got the market cornered on disillusionment?"

"It's a weird sort of day when Josh takes Sam to task for brooding too much," Donna remarked. Catching the glare Josh shot in her direction, she hastily added, "I didn't say it wasn't cute."

"But that's my point," Sam continued, ignoring Donna for the moment, "we're all feeling it. We've all felt the bitterness and the disillusionment. Now it's slipping over into our personal lives, you know? A year ago, the five of us would have been having a blast together. There was nobody I would rather have been with than you guys. Now...it's been months since we've done anything like this."

"We've all been pretty busy," CJ pointed out.

"We're always busy," Sam responded. "We've always made time for each other before. Now it's like when you see your ex, and you go back to her place one more time because you think you should try to make it work. But you don't feel that way about her anymore and all it does is remind you of that fact."

"That may be more about you than I really needed to know," CJ replied.

"I'm just saying what I feel," Sam replied. "Sometimes I wonder -- I mean, I love you guys, I really do."

"I beg you not to get maudlin," Toby said.

"But wouldn't it be better to leave now while I still care and while I can remember that we did a couple of good things in office? Wouldn't that be better than waiting until after the campaign and the investigation and letting all that ruin the memory?"

"The thing I feared most has come to pass," Josh said. "Sam's turning into Toby."

"Dear lord," CJ muttered, "anything but that. Save me from having to deal with two of him."

"He's not me," Toby replied. "For one thing, he lacks my knowledge of basic punctuation. For another, I know that any of us quitting now looks extraordinarily bad."

"Ask me if I care," Sam said.

"Okay," CJ announced, "that's it. Enough depressing shop talk. This is a celebration."

"What do we have to celebrate?" Sam asked.

CJ began to tick the points off on her fingers. "I wasn't fired. I didn't have to resign. The President apologized. And while some of us have legitimate concerns about the nature of his apology, it was more than we expected. The crowd responded well to the speech. And although I'm not looking forward to the investigation, at least it's about to start. Because I can tell you that I for one was getting damn sick of how it was just hanging over our heads."

"Mixed blessings at best," Toby pointed out.

"But better than no blessings at all. So I say we party. Dance with me, Tobus."

"No."

"Does Toby even know how to dance?" Josh asked.

"No," Toby replied.

"Yes," CJ countered. "Admit it, Toby. I've seen you dance."

"When?" Toby asked.

"At the thing. With Andie."

"The thing? You are perhaps referring to my wedding?"

"That's what I said."

"No, in fact what you said--"

"Toby, shut up and dance with me."

"No."

"You're a stubborn bastard, Toby Ziegler."

"Thank you."

To Sam's horror, CJ turned her attention to him. "All right then, Mr. Grumpy Pants," she said. "You. Me. On the dance floor now."

Sam sent out silent appeals to Toby and Josh to no avail. Toby was looking entirely too amused, and Josh had gone back to contemplating -- Well, Sam thought, Josh was contemplating something of Donna's. Perhaps it was best to leave it like that.

Surrendering to the inevitable, Sam followed CJ onto the dance floor. 

*** 

This, Toby thought, resembled one of those jokes that began "there's good news and bad news." The good news was that Toby no longer had to listen to Sam's complaints. The bad news? He was now the third wheel at the Josh-and-Donna lovefest. Toby was quickly coming to the conclusion that hell consisted of having to remain oblivious to the stares, the handholding and the whispers coming from the other end of the table.

Like Sam and CJ, Toby decided, he was not having fun.

Although judging from the enthusiasm CJ and Sam were currently exhibiting, their mood was rapidly improving.

Toby listened half-heartedly as Donna tried to convince Josh that they should join Sam and CJ on the dance floor.

"Dancing is fun," Donna announced in that overly enthusiastic tone she tended to use when CJ let her drink too much. "It's fun in an ephemeral sort of way."

Considering the amount of alcohol Donna had consumed, Toby was impressed that she could pronounce a four-syllable word.

So, apparently, was Josh, who grinned and echoed her "ephemeral" as though anything Donna said was so adorable that it had to be repeated.

"Yes." Donna nodded. "Ephemeral. You know, it doesn't last."

"I know what the word means," Josh said, continuing to play with Donna's hand.

"Because, you know," Donna continued, "you share a dance with somebody and by the next morning you've probably forgotten all about it no matter how hot it was at the moment."

Josh grinned as though Donna had just said something incredibly intelligent.

"So," Josh said, "a person could get right out there on the dance floor and--"

"Express their affection?" Donna suggested.

Before Toby could frame the words to express exactly how stupid Josh and Donna were being, CJ and Sam returned to the table.

"Well," CJ said, "I enjoyed that."

"I'm happy for you," Toby responded. "May we go back to the hotel now?"

"Not yet," Donna said, suddenly standing and holding her hand out to Josh. "I want to dance."

"This is perhaps ill-advised," Toby said.

CJ rested a hand on Toby's shoulder. "Let it go, my friend."

Sam, Toby and CJ sat silently and watched Donna lead Josh onto the dance floor. Several minutes passed before anyone could put what they were thinking into words. It was Sam who spoke first. "My god," he said. "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

"No," CJ replied emphatically. "And you're not seeing it."

"Yeah," Sam said, "but they're practically--"

"No." Toby spoke slowly, with deliberate emphasis. "They are not."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "What has gotten into them tonight?"

"Nothing," CJ said. "And you didn't notice it."

And yet, Toby thought, none of them could manage to take their eyes off what Josh and Donna were doing on the dance floor. He was relatively certain that whatever it was, "dancing" was not the correct word for it.

"But he's -- Christ, CJ, he's practically on top of her!" Sam exclaimed.

"Who?" CJ asked. "Where? Because I don't see anything out of the ordinary."

Toby turned away from the spectacle Josh and Donna were creating on the dance floor and stared at Sam. "Nor do I," Toby said.

"Oh." Sam nodded in reply. "Right. I get it."

"Thank you," CJ said. "Now about the--"

Sam, however, appeared obsessed with what everyone insisted they weren't seeing. "You don't think they're really...you know. Are they?"

"Of course not," CJ answered.

"Because that would be wrong," Toby intoned.

"Oh," Sam said. "Okay." He paused for a moment, watching Josh and Donna's gyrations. "Damn!" he exclaimed.

CJ's eyes widened. "My god in heaven," she whispered.

For a moment, no one said anything. Finally, Sam spoke.

"I had no idea Josh was that limber," he said in an awed tone. 

*** 

"So Sam has a point, albeit in a convoluted sort of way. Not that I think the President's intention was to -- Donnatella Moss, are you even listening to me?"

Donna nodded, shook her head, then nodded again.

Josh stopped unfastening his trousers -- which Donna considered a crime against womankind -- and stared at her. His eyes narrowed, and his forehead got all crinkly. Sitting on the bed, Donna leaned back against the pillows and stared in fascination.

"Was that supposed to be a yes or a no?" Josh asked.

"Yes," Donna replied. She'd lost track of what the question was, but saying no to anything Josh asked her tonight seemed like a bad idea.

"In that case," Josh ordered, hands resting on his hips, "repeat what I just said."

"Um..." His tie had come undone in the cab on their way back to the hotel. Okay, Donna corrected herself, "come undone" was a poor choice of words, suggesting as it did that the notion that the tie had managed to undo itself. She might, she acknowledged, have helped it along. Just a little. And his hair was even wilder than usual, going in several different directions in a manner that fairly screamed "I was just involved in an intense makeout session in a cab." She'd definitely played a role in that, but Josh's hair was too much fun to mess with. No one could expect a woman who was straight, drunk and horny to ignore Joshua Lyman's hair.

The untucked shirt, the three undone buttons revealing the fact that he'd dressed in such a hurry that he'd neglected to put on an undershirt, and that belt hanging loosely on the unzipped pants, however -- those were his own doing. She was in no way responsible for those, except as an appreciative audience.

"Donna?"

"You're really hot," she replied, giving up all pretense of answering his question. "Just like that, you know. With the clothes this close to coming off. Really hot."

"You're really drunk," he responded. There was more than a twinge of regret in his voice, she noticed.

"That was the plan," she reminded him.

"We shouldn't -- I mean, not only am I your boss--"

"Not goin' there," Donna replied. "Not tonight. That was the agree--agree--" Damned if she could remember the rest of the word. "You said," she finished, proud of herself for conveying the original concept in words of one syllable.

"I'm your boss, you're drunk -- This is an ethical problem on a number of levels." He stood there, Donna noted, in his half-dressed hotness and she couldn't quite remember what "ethical" meant.

"You're drunk too," she pointed out, "and we already did it, so who the hell cares?" She stared at him for another long minute. "You're so completely hot. And you have nice eyes."

"See, you're always going on about my delicate system, but I'm downright sober compared to you." He sat down on the edge of the bed and proceeded to take off his shoes and socks.

"You have toes!" Donna exclaimed in delight. "One, two -- Yeah, I think you have the usual number and everything."

"You're much too drunk," Josh repeated.

"Joshua." Donna put an arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "You sound so sad. I hate it when you're sad."

"If only I'd drunk more," he said wistfully . "One more drink and I wouldn't care whether--"

Donna lifted her head, shifted around so that she was facing him, and began playing absentmindedly with his tie. "Bad idea," she replied. She had somehow managed to wrap the tie around her wrist. Why this caused Josh to whimper like that she wasn't sure. "If you drank any more, you wouldn't be able to--" Her eyes drifted down to the impressive bulge in his pants. "That's so nice," she sighed. Suddenly remembering the point she'd intended to make, she continued, "Recent studies indicate that the correl--correl-- that the 'lationship between male sexual dysfunction and--"

"You couldn't stumble over _that_ word?" he muttered.

"Is perversely--" Donna frowned. "No, that's wrong. Adversely? No, that's not it either . Well, anyway," she said, brightening, "the more you drink, the less likely that is to happen." She pointed directly at his erection. "I like when that happens," she concluded.

Josh groaned and flopped back against the pillows. "At the moment," he said, "I am none too fond of it." His shirt was half unbuttoned and untucked. His pants were unzipped, and he was barefoot. Donna didn't know whether to simply stare some more at the hotness of him or whether to attack. And which part of him to attack first. She wished her higher brain functions would turn back on so she could reason it all out. She decided to focus on his words for a minute while she made up her mind.

"Why? Does it hurt? Want me to kiss it and make it better?" This seemed like an excellent idea, especially since it solved her "where to start?" dilemma.

Based on the way Josh groaned, Donna assumed the answer was no. So instead she leaned over and started undoing the remaining shirt buttons. "Your chest is really beautiful," she said, stroking his now exposed skin. To her delight and amazement, Josh Lyman, Ego with Legs, blushed.

"It's really not," he replied.

"Is too."

"It's--" He hesitated, as though looking for the right thing to say without giving away too much of what he was really thinking. "I am deeply flawed," he concluded.

"You're perfect," she replied, tracing one finger lightly over the wounds on his chest. "No scar, no Josh," she explained. "And anyway, I like your flaws."

He rested one hand in her hair. "Again, you are making no sense."

"Perfect people are boring," she explained. "You're too smug, you have a wicked temper sometimes, you've been known to screw up, your hairline is receding, and your chest has this big old scar. I love you."

"Well, thanks for that boost to my already inflated ego, but -- Wait! What did you just say?"

"Your hairline is receding, and you have this scar--"

"No. After that."

"Oh, yeah. I love you. You know that."

"No," he said, pulling her closer. "I don't think I do."

"Geez, you just haven't been paying attention at all the last couple of years, have you?"

He was too damn adorable when he looked into her eyes all serious like that. "I'm paying attention now. Say it again."

"I love you," she repeated. "You're such a dolt sometimes. I don't get why you didn't know this already."

He started to smile and she could tell there were going to be dimples, so she held her breath. But then he frowned instead, and she sighed in disappointment. "Wait," he said. "This isn't one of those things you say when you're drunk even though you don't mean it, is it?"

She thought this over carefully, since her answer obviously meant a lot to him. "Nope," she concluded. "Fell in love with you a long time ago."

"Wow," he whispered.

"Can we have sex now?"

"Oh, yeah," he replied. "I think we're pretty much going to have to after that little revelation."

"About time."

"Yes, it is," he answered. Even drunk, she knew his tone of voice well enough to realize he wasn't referring only to the sex.

*** 

An hour later, Josh watched with amusement as Donna stumbled out of bed, peered down at the jumble of clothes on the floor, selected a shirt and studied it as though she wasn't entirely sure what the shirt sleeves were for.

"What ya doin'?" he asked as Donna worked out the complicated process of putting on a shirt. He neglected to point out that it was his shirt. After all, it looked too cute hanging off Donna's slim frame like that.

"Bed," Donna muttered. "Going there."

Josh smiled because she was much too cute when she was drunk and confused. "You seem to be headed in the wrong direction," he pointed out, patting the spot beside him. "Bed's over here."

"My bed," Donna answered sleepily. "'Nother room."

"Oh, sure. Have your wicked way with my body and then abandon me. Stealing my shirt in the process, I might add."

Donna looked down, a puzzled expression on her face. She held a piece of the shirt in front of her and stared at it for several minutes. Finally, she asked, "Why am I wearing your shirt?"

"Why do you eat my food? Why do you drink my coffee? It's the next step in a natural progression."

"But--"

"Lose the shirt and come back to bed."

"It's 3 a.m., Josh."

"An excellent reason for sleeping. Come here."

"You," she said, "don't want to sleep."

"That's not necessarily true. Sleeping is, in fact, my second favorite thing to do in bed."

Donna's skeptical look, however, caused him to backtrack. "Okay," he added, "maybe sleeping is not high on my to-do list right now, but I could be convinced."

"Josh." He wasn't at all happy with the slightly chiding tone in Donna's voice, the tone that said "we now have to go back to the way things were." He decided he was going to ignore that tone.

"You're going to have one hell of a hangover, you know," he told her.

"Yes." Judging from the way she winced when she answered him, he decided, the hangover might be making its presence felt already.

"Stay here and I'll help you with that," he offered.

"Right. 'Cause you're so good at helping the afflicted."

"Well, you know, I'm just trying to be a good boyfriend."

Donna stopped foraging through the clothing pile and looked at him . "What'd you say?"

Damn. He was doing that blushing thing again. "I used a word that commonly expresses a continuing affectionate relationship."

Donna moved closer to the bed and stared down at him. "Josh," she said.

Hell. There was that tone again. He had to stop her from using that tone so often. He reached up and pulled her down so that their lips met briefly. And damn the tentative way she kissed him too. There was way too much "goodbye" in that kiss. He decided to ignore that and tugged at her shoulders until she was half on top of him. "Which, you know, makes the word 'girlfriend' not an inappropriate way for you to describe your relationship to me."

"Don't do this, Josh."

Shit. "Do what?"

"Try to make tonight into something permanent."

He held onto her even more tightly. "Words were said," he pointed out, "that generally imply permanence."

"Not under the present circumstances."

"Consider yourself fired. Although I'm inclined to write you one hell of a letter of recommendation."

"Impervious." She finished climbing on top of him; he thought there was something comforting in the feel of her weight resting on him. "And this isn't the time--"

She hadn't bothered to button the shirt when she put it on. Josh moved the fabric aside and began to stroke her left breast softly.

"And it's never going to be the right time," he said. "So either we go for it or we don't. Based on recent events, it would appear we've decided to go for it."

"Just for tonight," she protested. "We even said we'd forget--"

"Can't do that." He let the other hand roam through her hair. "No point in trying."

"Okay," she said, and he was pleased to notice that the way her hands were moving down his body wasn't at all consistent with someone who wanted to forget recent events, "so maybe forgetting isn't entirely possible anymore."

"If indeed it ever was."

"But you're the one who said that this was going to be a very close election . Considering that we've got this whole investigation thing looming over us like some big looming thing--"

"You have a real way with words when you're drunk, Donnatella."

"Shut up. I'm simply saying that this is not the time to start something that could be, you know, bad."

"Evidence suggests that nothing about this could be bad," he replied, moving one hand down to her hip and rubbing his thumb against a particularly sensitive spot.

"And not just bad for us," she said, once she'd stopped moaning. "Bad for everybody we care about. Don't we owe it to CJ and Toby and Sam and Leo and the Bartlets to avoid things that could embarrass the administration?" she asked as she started kissing his throat.

"Not that I don't see your point," he said, dipping his hand lower and watching in fascination at the way she arched her back. "But I repeat the fact that things were said."

"Things were said that aren't going to change." She looked down at him questioningly. "I mean, I don't think they're going to change. Do you think they're going to change?"

"Definitely not. Change is bad. I hate change. Change is not our friend."

"Then can't we wait and revisit this conversation after the hearings and the election?"

"We could. Or we could--" Yeah, he thought, he really had some valid point he was going to make, but he couldn't think of it when she was moving on top of him like that.

"That's it then," she said as she bent down to kiss him. "Subject closed."

The part he hated, he thought later, once Donna had fallen asleep in his arms, was that she was right. If it had just been the two of them, he'd have been willing to take his chances. But given everything else that had happened, including his own blunder with the tobacco thing, this was hardly the time for the Deputy Chief of Staff to embark on an affair with his assistant.

He held Donna closer and tried to put a positive spin on the situation. He loved Donna; Donna loved him. That much they'd established. After all, nothing could happen in the next few months to change that.

Nothing at all.

THE END

02.12.02

**Author's Note:**

> _Lethean: adj., oblivion; forgetfulness._


End file.
